Longing
by r4ven3
Summary: A one shot, set early in S.5 - after the losses of Danny and Colin - before it all went wrong. An alternative lead up to the dinner.


_**A/N: Kudos owns Harry & Ruth, while I contrived Tony Judd.**_

_**This has turned out as something of a parallel piece to "The New Girl", although it's set in an earlier series. You might see what I mean once you read it.**_

* * *

"…_There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover's whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad._"

~ Homer – _The Iliad_.

* * *

He has tried, but he has been unable to identify the exact moment when his co-worker became something more. She'd always been extraordinary, and somehow different from other women he has known. He had recognised her talent, her devotion to her job, her loyalty to her colleagues, her maturity, her sense of humour, and the occasional private joke they'd shared, and that was all within the first six months since she'd joined the section.

Witnessing her deep grief over Danny's death had opened a door deep inside him – one which had been closed for many years – allowing something new and delicate to germinate. They had sat together at Danny's funeral service, and he had felt her sadness, and had fought the urge to put his arm around her, and pull her to him, to stroke her hair while her tears spilled against his coat. She is his intelligence analyst, and he relies upon her. Perhaps he is reading too much into their increasing closeness, and perhaps it is not the same for her as it is becoming for him.

It was when the team met at Adam's apartment after Colin's body had been found that Harry felt something different – something tangible – between he and Ruth. She'd sat next to him in the corner of the settee, so that the two of them were cocooned from the others. He had turned towards her, resting his arm along the back of the settee, the closest he could be to her without arousing the attention of the others. He liked to think that she'd been as aware of him as he was of her. He'd felt her discomfort when Malcolm had shouted at him, calling him a "pompous old fool". He wanted to believe she was concerned for him, but he knew that was unlikely. He _had_ acted pompously, throwing around platitudes like confetti at a wedding. He'd needed to simply shutup, allowing Adam to handle the situation, leaving he and Ruth alone for a moment in their cocoon.

Each night now, he takes it home in a box, something fresh and unsullied and beautiful, something which makes his battered heart hum, and his body thrum, and while he's nearing sleep – his eyes closed, his heart wakened – he removes the lid from the box and looks at what is inside. He dare not call it love; it is still too new and unformed to have a name. Whatever it is, it has him thinking of her as he falls asleep, so that ofttimes when he wakes in the morning, hard from his wanting her body, he staggers naked into the shower, and as the hot water needles him into full alertness, he massages himself to climax, breathing her name as he comes. He's not proud of this, but he has a body, and this body aches for her.

Harry has almost decided to ask Ruth to have dinner with him when a new man joins Section D from MI-6. Tony Judd is to replace two people – Fiona and Colin. Harry hopes this man knows how large the shoes are he is having to fill.

"Harry," Tony Judd says as he enters Harry's office on the dot of eight o'clock, hand out, ready to shake Harry's hand.

"You must be Tony Judd," Harry replies, sure his forced smile is visible to all. "I'll introduce you to Malcolm."

As the new week begins, Tony Judd appears to fit in well. His Personnel File states he is thirty-eight years old, divorced, with an eight-year-old son, and that he lives alone, and has no personal attachments, other than divorced parents, and one brother, all of whom live in Edinburgh. He has spent the last eighteen months since his marriage broke up travelling to the Middle East, where he'd installed communication systems at various safe houses in Jordan and Palestine. He was due to head off to Iran when he was called in to work in Section D. His tenure is to be temporary, and for reasons he can't quite put his finger on, Harry is relieved about that.

Actually, Harry does know why he's not thrilled about having Tony Judd on the team. Even he can see that Judd is an attractive man. He has seen how Jo and Ruth and the admin girls smile and defer to him whenever he is around, and his heart sinks deeper every time. Tony Judd is tall, athletic, with a full head of light brown hair, and he has light blue eyes which twinkle when he speaks. His accent is soft Scottish, and the women all seem to like that. Harry decides he hates the Scottish accent, and by the end of his first week with Section D, Harry suspects that he hates Tony Judd, or at the very least, he hates the way the women on the Grid behave when he is around. They've never behaved that way around him. On reflection, it is only Ruth whom he wishes would behave that way around him. For the rest of them, they can fawn over this man all they like.

By the end of the new man's second week on the Grid, Harry has given up believing Ruth will ever agree to have dinner with him. She and Tony have developed a ritual of having lunch together, whether on the Grid, or at a nearby café. As usual, Harry has left it too late. He regrets not asking her out the night they'd met at Adam's apartment after Colin died. Instead of standing by while Zaf suggested Ruth travel back to the Grid with him, he should have led her to his car. He was slow on the uptake, and it serves him right.

It is early evening, and Ruth is working, her dark head bent over something on her desk. Harry glances at the other desks, and it appears that they are the only people left on the Grid. Adam had been out for much of the day, and Zaf and Jo left together over an hour earlier. Harry suspects that Ruth has lost all track of time. He has decided that he should ask her for a drink and a quick bite, and has just stepped throught the door of his office when her mobile phone rings, and she answers. It is clearly someone she knows well. She smiles and nods, and her fingers play with the ends of her hair. He has read somewhere that when a woman plays with her hair when speaking to you, it means she's interested. Harry thinks it means that she likes playing with her hair. Not every human action is indicative of deeper meaning …... at least, he hopes so.

He stands by his office door while Ruth gathers her things – her coat, her bag, her keys, phone – and then logs off her computer, and turns off the monitor. She hurries across the Grid towards him.

"`Night, Harry," she says with a smile – the kind of smile which warms his heart – and then rushes past him.

"Going somewhere?" _Smooth, Harry, very smooth._

Ruth stops just before she reaches the pods. She turns slowly, as though thinking of an appropriate repartee. "It's 7 o'clock, Harry. I don't want to be known as the woman who lives at work." `Not like you' is understood, but remains unspoken. Ruth hesitates for a moment, as though waiting for him to say something else, and then she hurries through the pods.

"Goodnight, Ruth," he says to her departing back.

* * *

Harry has become lost inside the reports he is reading. In some ways, this activity is therapeutic, as he scans the work of his operatives and analysts. He is proud of his team – of their abilities, as well as their loyalty. He knows he is feeling tired when his mind begins to wander, and it inevitably wanders to Ruth. He wonders whether she is home yet, and whether she is home alone. It is clear to him that she'd left the Grid to meet someone. Who was that someone? He doesn't need a crystal ball to answer that question. She is meeting Tony Judd, who regularly leaves the Grid by 6 each evening. Harry thinks that perhaps he should find more work for this man.

He is startled by the ringtone of his mobile phone. He shuffles underneath the pile of read reports, until his hand connects with the phone.

"Pearce," he barks, before he's read the name on screen.

"Harry …...," says a distressed voice.

"Ruth. Are you alright? Where are you?"

There is a brief silence before she answers, and when she does, he repeats what she says just a little too loudly. "Northwick Park _Hospital_? Ruth, are you alright? What's happened?"

"I'm alright, yes, just a little embarrassed to be ringing you asking you to come and get me. It's ….. it's a very long story."

"Don't worry about that now. Remind me. Where is it?"

"North-west London, in Harrow. Just off Watford Road."

"Right. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"And Harry?"

"Yes?" Harry is already putting on his coat, his phone tucked under is chin.

"Thank you for this. I owe you."

"You owe me nothing, Ruth. I'll be there as soon as I can." Which Harry knows could be anything up to an hour, depending on traffic.

* * *

As soon as he has parked his car, Harry rings Ruth for directions to where he can find her. He searches for directions to the foyer of A&E, and when he finds them, he hurries there, almost running. It takes him a while to find the emergency department, and when he walks through the double doors, there she is, standing against the wall, waiting for him. He strides towards her, wanting to take her in his arms, but he doesn't. In his personal relationships – and for him, Ruth has become a personal relationship - Harry does restraint better than most.

"Are you alright?" he asks, and when she nods, he can't help babbling – about the traffic, the ring road, the car park.

"Harry, it's alright. It's warm in here, although I could have done without the crying children, and the knife wounds."

"Let's get out of here," and he grasps her elbow, and guides her back through the door.

They drive away from the hospital in silence. Harry's mind is whirling with possibilities, but not knowing why she was there is somehow an easier option than questioning her about how it is she'd ended up so far from home. Once back in central London, Harry weaves through more familiar streets, and parks a few doors away from a 24-hour diner where he's eaten many times before - often in the early hours, after a field operation. The décor is 1950's American diner, complete with marbled formica table tops, and checkered red and white tablecloths. The food is always delicious and filling.

They eat in comfortable silence, and it is when they are sitting over a glass of light red wine that Ruth is the first one to speak about the night's adventure.

"Don't you want to know how I got into such a pickle?"

"I do, actually. Now we're fed and watered, I'd rather like to know what kind of man you are dating who would leave you stranded like that."

Ruth's eyes shoot up to meet his own. They sit at a wall-side table for two, separated from the other diners by empty tables. There are wall lights behind opaque glass light shades, and so the lighting is rather muted, lending an intimacy to the room.

"It wasn't a date, Harry. I haven't been dating anyone …... not since …... for well over a year."

Inside his body, Harry feels a release of inner tension. He wants to smile, he wants to laugh aloud. He nods, encouraging Ruth to continue talking.

"Tell me, Ruth."

"Tony rang me, and asked me to meet him at a café not far from work. We've been meeting one another most lunchtimes."

"I know. I'd noticed."

"We haven't been dating, Harry. They were not dates."

Harry can only smile.

"I've been advising Tony on what he should do to get back with his wife."

"I thought he was divorced."

"His ex-wife, then. He misses her, and wants to …... reconcile. He wanted a woman's perspective, and I am someone who is the same age as his wife. Jo wouldn't know, and nor would Sherie or Jade, or the others. They're all …..."

"Horrifically young."

Ruth smiles across the table at him, and his stomach does little turn. "Exactly," she says quietly.

"I thought you were dating him," Harry says, Ruth's news making him bolder.

"Were you jealous, Harry?" Ruth's voice is soft, her tone gentle.

"I suppose I must have been."

"There's no need. I'm not interested in Tony."

"Good."

"I thought you hated him."

"Strangely, I no longer hate him. Is he back with his wife?"

"In a way. As I said, I met Tony at a café, and I'd not been with him long and his wife – ex-wife – rang him to say that Bentley had been hit by a car as he crossed the road."

"Is Bentley their dog?"

"Their son. He's eight."

"Who'd call their precious child Bentley?"

"Tony and Jacinta, obviously."

"So how did you end up at the hospital?"

"Tony offered to drive me home, but I said that I'd go with him to the hospital. He was very upset, and I thought he needed someone with him. When we reached the A&E department, he went straight off with Jacinta, saying he'd get back to me, but he never did. I tried ringing him, but his phone was turned off. I waited for ever so long, and then I rang you. Unusually for me, I didn't fancy going home by bus."

As Ruth told the story, Harry began to feel angry towards Tony. Injured child or not, he had not behaved in a respectful manner towards Ruth.

"Are he and his wife getting back together?"

"After tonight, I suspect they may. Jacinta is finding Bentley to be a handful. The child misses his father."

Harry sits back in his chair, his own past as an absent father revisiting him. He sighs, regretting his past dismissal of his son, and his own absence from his life.

"You're thinking about your own son, aren't you?" Ruth says quietly.

"How do you know about my son?"

"It's common knowledge, Harry. The Grid is rife with gossip, and you are not immune. What's done is done. You can't roll back the years."

"I know I can't. I'd like to knock some sense into Tony, though. How dare he just leave you like that."

"I don't even know how the child is. It's possible he may have died, and then I'd feel terrible for thinking this way."

"Why did you choose to ring me? There must have been others you could have rung. Zaf, for instance."

"I knew you'd still be at work, and …... of all the people I'd want with me in a crisis, you are top of my list."

"Is that all?"

"Does there have to be another reason?"

Harry sighs, twirling his almost-empty wine glass between his fingers. "No …... but it would be nice if there were …... another reason."

Ruth has been watching Harry from across the table, and when he speaks, he looks at her, and she drops her eyes. He watches her as she battles with herself.

"There is," she says at last. Infuriatingly, Ruth also begins playing with the stem of her glass.

"And what would that be, Ruth?"

Her eyes dart up to meet his. He watches her as her inner struggle continues. "I …... rather like …... being with you." Then she blushes and looks down.

"That's a very good thing, Ruth, because I also enjoy your company."

"What's happening here, Harry?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I'm not about to stop it. Are you?"

Ruth lifts her eyes to meet his, and very slowly, she shakes her head. Harry can barely breathe. In the course of a few hours the world has turned only slightly, while his life – his whole existence – has been turned on its head, and his heart is filled with hope.

The mood is broken by the ringtone of Ruth's phone. She reluctantly takes her eyes from his, and scrabbles around in her bag, and then she answers the call, and listens.

"That's good news, then …... No, I'm fine. I'm back in London... I rang a …... a friend, and he picked me up... I'm glad things have turned out well for you. …... Yes, I'll tell him for you. Goodbye." And after she closes her phone, she looks across the table at Harry. "That was Tony. His son's left leg is fractured in two places, and he has a cracked pelvis, but he'll be fine …... eventually. Tony is staying the night with his wife, and may be late for work tomorrow."

All Harry can do is nod and raise his eyebrows. He doesn't mind if Tony never comes back to work, but he no longer wishes him ill.

* * *

They are silent while Harry manoeuvres his car towards Ruth's house. There is so much they both want to say that they say nothing. The space inside the car is filled with their unspoken words. Harry parks outside Ruth's house, where they both sit in silence.

"Ruth," he says, after a while, "I'd like it were you to agree to have dinner with me. Soon. A proper dinner this time, at a nice restaurant."

Harry holds his breath while he waits for Ruth's answer. He feels movement from her, and when he turns to face her, she is leaning towards him. He reacts instinctively, and leans into her, touching her lips with his own, while his arm slides around her waist. He has imagined what it would be like to kiss Ruth, but this is a thousand times better. Her lips are warm and soft, and he is surprised to feel her tongue on his lower lip. He opens his mouth, and leans further into her, putting his other arm around her shoulders. There is a console between them, so he can't hold her against him, but the kiss is exquisite, all the same.

They break out of the kiss, and both are smiling into the dark.

"I'll have to think about that dinner invitation, Harry. Now, I'd better go. My cats will be starving."

Harry unbuckles his seatbelt. "I'll see you inside."

Ruth leans into the car to look at him. "No, Harry. I'm fine. There's no need for both of us to get cold."

"I'm feeling rather warm," he says quietly.

She nods at him, and then she closes the door, and she is gone. Harry watches her all the way to her front door, and he keeps watching while she turns on her house lights. He re-buckles his seatbelt, and is about to start the engine, when his phone rings. He sees her standing between the gap in the curtains at the window in the front room, so he knows it is she on the phone.

"Ruth?"

"The answer is yes, Harry."

"The answer?"

"To your question. I've thought about it, and I'd like to go out to dinner with you."

"That's wonderful, Ruth."

"Yes, it is. Now, go home, Harry."

Harry smiles into the dark. He wants to shout, and punch the windscreen, but instead, he starts the car and drives off, but not before casting one last glance at the woman watching him from her front room.


End file.
